Detroit
by skwirelygurli
Summary: Austin misses Ally while he's out on tour. Auslly.


**Detroit, an Austin and Ally one-shot**

**I do not own Austin and Ally. Please enjoy, and remember, reviews and prompts are always appreciated!**

It's an incredibly juvenile notion. Only five year olds with ungranted wishes for ponies and mountains of ice cream make toss coins in the wishing well with hopes of them coming true.

He's not wishing for a pony. Nor ice cream, though in this heat, it doesn't sound too bad.

But he only has one quarter, and he has a greater wish than ice cream.

He wants Ally to be his girl.

Please let the wish come true. He's not sure how this works, but since he gave twenty five cents, and the little girl only gave a penny, does his wish have all the more power?

He shouldn't be bribing the wishing gods. His fingers should be dialing her number. The show starts in an hour.

The phone vibrates in his hand. It startles him, and he almost drops it into the well. The quarter is plenty. Don't get greedy, you wishing gods.

"Hey, I was just going to call you," he breathes.

"Oh? I'm heading out." Her voice sounds nervous. Surely he's hearing things.

By that he does not mean the high pitched squeal of his name when a fan catches him.

"Where are you going?"

"I have a date," he hears through the screaming. The fan is getting closer.

There are so many questions he could ask. Who, what, where, why? That last one he'd really like to know. Why did she decide to rip his heart out?

Maybe because they broke up months ago, and there's nobody saying she can't?

If he was not in Minneapolis right now, he'd take a megaphone to her ear. "YOU ARE MINE."

From his spot at the wishing well, simply "Have fun."

"You too." Her words are honest. Her tone is hurt.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." He hangs up, not letting her say that dreadful word.

Goodbye. A word symbolizing a leave of absence.

He never wants to leave her.

_(the page breaks here)_

They pass the Illinois border. It's been five hours since the close of the concert.

He doesn't think about the screaming fans or how the one girl had to get escorted off stage when she hopped up and clobbered him.

All he can think about is how he wishes that girl was Ally. How he wanted to tell her all about it.

How she's home, asleep, exhausted from what may have been the best night of her life.

It may have also been the worst, but he's too tired for optimism.

"Starlight, star bright," he whispers to the sky. His head snaps to the left, then right. Nobody else can hear the wish. That makes it null and void.

His guitarist is within hearing distance.

If he wishes the opposite of what he wants, and the guitarist voids it, does the opposite happen, or does nothing happen?

Ugh, he's too tired to think this hard.

He checks the time. It's past three. The stars have been out for a long time now. Not that he can even remember which one he was talking to. He looks to one. Was it the first? You can't wish on the second star. No, it was the one next to it. Or is that the third star?

The sound of snoring drowns out his thoughts.

Hey stars, if he wishes on all of you, could you perhaps work together and get this girl to like him? He really misses her right now.

He never says the words aloud.

Hopefully stars can read minds.

_(the page breaks here)_

They're in Detroit tonight, and as he's changing backstage, something occurs to him.

Ally never called.

She always calls to wish him luck before the concert. It's an unspoken pact. Just like how he calls in the morning to tell her what happened.

Crap, he forgot to call this morning.

Rather, he wanted to give her time to sleep off her date, and by the time he was going to call her, he got pulled aside for business, and then forgot. No wonder she didn't call. She probably thinks he's angry at her.

He knew he should've said more than 'have fun.' That's what people write in yearbooks. It's not what best friends say when they're overprotective, and overly caring, and in love.

It seems he has some amending to do.

"This next song is dedicated to Ally Dawson. I'm sorry I didn't call this morning."

And then he proceeds to sing 'I Think About You.'

As he catches his breath, he thinks about what he just did. He sang a love song to a girl who went on a date with another boy.

That night in their hotel, his drummer shows plunks his laptop on his lap.

"What's this?"

"You caused a Tweeter riot." He leans in close, and Austin can feel his cheese curl breath on his neck.

Creepy.

His phone vibrates. The drummer gives him his privacy, leaving the laptop.

"Have to seen Tweeter?" Ally yawns. He pictures her in her pajamas. What is she doing up this late anyhow?

"I'm checking it out now. How'd you hear about it?"

"Benedict called and woke me." Benedict? What was this guy, a breakfast dish?

Admittedly a delicious one at that. He was hoping he was more of a cornflakes without milk kind of guy.

Though he'd never met a boy named Cornflakes.

"You mean your boyfriend?" His words are full of venom. So not the tone he wanted to use. You can't obtain an illusion of perfection with venom.

He wants to be the perfect best friend for her. It's one step down from boyfriend. Which she clearly doesn't want if she's seeing other men.

"He's not my boyfriend. He called to tell me he couldn't bear to be the one keeping the two of us apart." She doesn't sound terribly upset by the news. Lighthearted is more like it.

He tries to keep his voice calm. "I'm pretty sure that there's a thousand miles keeping us apart right now."

A joke. Something to steer away from this conversation.

Wishing gods, now is not a good time. He wants to tell her face to face.

Another yawn.

"We're touring the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame tomorrow, but I'll call you, okay?" A yawn escapes his own mouth. Those things are contagious.

"Okay. I-" she stops. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The line goes dead.

He sleeps better than he has in days.

_(the page breaks here)_

Two days later, he spots her.

"Ally?" He grabs her by the waist, tugging her past the security guard. He nods that she, and her father, can come backstage.

She relaxes. "Hey."

"What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you." He lets her go, assuming some semblance of friendship. "You too Mr. Dawson."

Would it be so wrong to keep his arm around her waist?

Yes. They're friends, even if his feelings are currently somewhere between 'oh my gosh' and 'I love you.' Makes him sound like a preteen girl, doesn't it?

It's not his fault she makes him happy.

"I wanted to talk to you about what you happened the other day. And my dad wanted me to practice driving. I kept getting honked at on the thru-way." She frowns. Then her hand finds his.

For the record, that was her move.

For the record, he likes her hand in his.

A lot.

"Ten minutes," he's warned. That's not nearly enough time.

It only takes two seconds to kiss her...

No. Not here, or now, with her dad right there.

Maybe he could convince her to finish the tour with him. Austin Moon, with special guest Ally Dawson. Special being the opportune word.

"Can we talk after the show?" he pleads. They look to her dad for confirmation. It is given.

Tonight he's going to tell her.

Wish him luck wishing gods.

_(the page breaks here)_

They cross the Virginia border an hour behind schedule.

Reasons why he could care less about this fact: He told her the truth. She made confessions of her own. Ones like 'I still like you,' and 'I miss you.'

He can still taste her chapstick.

They stop to refill the gas tank. He goes into the store and buys himself a tube.

If things keep going his way, she's going to need it. After cleaning her lips of it, using his own as a mop, if you will, it'd be rude not to.

Eight days. They'll be together in eight days.

He checks his phone. It's past midnight.

Seven days. They'll be together in seven days.

One week and she's his.

Though, if he thinks about it, she always has been. He didn't need any wishing gods to make his dreams a reality.

To think, he gave them a quarter.

He'd give a million quarters for her.

But it only took one quarter, and a heap load of guts.

Looking out the window, there's a cluster of stars. It doesn't matter which one he saw first.

What more does he have to wish for?


End file.
